Gregor and the Howlers
by GorimJr
Summary: Two years after Gregor and his family came to Virginia, Gregor is once again called to the assistance of the Underland. Currently undergoing re-writes; Chapters 1-3 rewritten. Don't read 4-6 yet. They're stupid. And badly written.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm redoing this, mainly because I've hit a lovely TUC kick, and because I like this idea enough to believe it deserves a revamp. The old stuff is so cringe-worthy...**

Two years…

Two entire, long, fleeting, agonizing years.

Gregor stepped off the bus, waving cheerfully to his friends, hiding the emotional roller coaster that been going on inside his head all day. Old names that he'd tried to keep pushed out of his mind kept popping up at the oddest times.

_Mareth._

_Aurora._

_Temp._

…

He knew for a fact it had been two years.

It had taken over a year to move safely to Virginia. So much had to be done. Gregor's mother had to get a job there; they had to transfer everything to Gregor and Lizzie's new schools; they had to move the furniture from the apartment to the house.

And then, of course, there was the waiting. They had to wait for Dad's health to improve, and wait for Gregor's scars to fade to the point that it was safe for him to go out, and wait for the nightmares and dreams to stop…

And wait and wait and wait…

In between all that waiting, Gregor's grandmother died. Then there was the debate on whether to bury her in New York or in Virginia. Ultimately, they decided on cremation.

And that whole time, Gregor sat and wondered about those people and friends he left behind against his will.

No matter how long they waited, he could never wait Down There. That would be counterproductive.

And when the waiting had finally stopped, it had been almost a year. And then it was anything _but_ waiting. Then it was a whirlwind of packing and moving and settling in and transferring…

Gregor hadn't realized the anniversary had passed until the week after. But then everything slowed down, and now it was calm enough to dwell.

The driveway that led to their farmhouse was literally a mile long. Normally it was a nice walk, but today all it did was provide more empty time to think.

Time to think about the beautiful stone city miles beneath New York.

Time to think about the pale skinned people that lived there.

Time to think about the bats and rats and cockroaches and mice and moles and spiders that lived with them.

Time to think about the treacherous jungles and the mazes that were far across a body of water and a dark room covered in carvings and words that dictated his life to an irrational extent.

Time to think about…

He felt his eyes begin to sting and took several deep breaths. He'd woken up that morning screaming. The nightmare had been a hodgepodge of fears. He'd been fighting for his life against thousands of shadows, blind, or maybe just lost in the dark. He'd watched helplessly as a great black bat had died, and then he'd fallen through the ground into even heavier darkness.

He wondered if going back to That Place would have made things better or worse.

He was snapped out of his potentially counterproductive reverie by laughter. He looked up, not realizing that he'd walked the length of the driveway already. Boots and Lizzie were running around in the snow, though with Boots it probably would have been more precise to say flailing, throwing snowballs and just having a good time.

Boots was five now, and in kindergarten, though she was part of the half-day class that didn't need to attend full-time. While she still went by Boots with the family, she was starting to insist on Maggie or Margaret.

Irrationally, Gregor didn't really want to let go of her old moniker.

_Stay tucked up, Boots! Hold your knees!_

_I hold my knees!_

Gregor swallowed past the lump in his throat and did his best to banish the voices and names and images that had refused to stop plaguing him since that morning.

Lizzie was ten now. Technically she should have been in fifth grade, but she was smart enough to skip a grade. She'd jumped right out of forth grade and into middle school, which was fine with her. Sometimes Gregor wondered if Boots remembered That Place, but he never had to wonder with Lizzie. Once, she'd crept up to him in the hallway between their rooms and whispered, so their mother wouldn't hear, _"Do you think they're all okay?"_

"_I don't know,"_ he'd whispered back. _"I hope so."_

"_I'm sure they are." _

"Hey, Gregor!" An icy fist of a snowball slammed right into the side of his face. "Oops… I was aiming for your chest!" He looked up, brushing the snow out of his hair and off of his face, to see Boots rolling in the snow in hysterics while Lizzie smiled apologetically. With a slow grin, Gregor bent over and started to create a monster snowball. "Oh g- RUN, MAGGIE!" The girls tumbled through the snow as Gregor pelted the ground at their heels with snowballs, and the three rushed into the house, grinning and dripping all over the hardwood floor.

The house itself wasn't bad, particularly in comparison to the apartment they'd shared in New York. There was a full kitchen, a living room, a dining room that was actually separate from the kitchen, four bedrooms plus a basement. Only one bathroom, but all things considered it was thoroughly small price to pay.

For a brief, utterly invigorating moment, Gregor forgot about what day it was.

_Gregor the human, I bond to you_.

"Hey everyone," their dad called from the living room. "How was school?" As the girls rattled off the details of their days, even Boots who would have told him about her day already, Gregor hung their coats up and tried to not remember those damn words.

_Our life and death are one, we two._

"I'm gonna go upstairs and study, okay guys?" He said, picking up his bag. He went upstairs without waiting for an answer.

He closed the door and swung the little hook latch to lock it. Then he pressed his forehead to the wood, his eyes closed.

_Nike._

_Dulcet._

_Nerissa._

…

He gritted his teeth and pushed away from the door. He knew Lizzie wouldn't bother him; whether out of sympathy or empathy, she'd understand. Same with his father. As far as he knew, Boots didn't even notice something was wrong. But his _mother…_

His mother would want to discuss it. His mother would want to know why he'd been to the principle that day for snapping in the lunchroom. She wouldn't understand why it meant so much. _She_ hadn't made friends Down There. _She _hadn't cared about anyone. _She _hadn't…

_In dark, in flame, in war, in strife…_

He wished a fire would start, or a bomb would go off, or a nuclear holocaust; something, _anything_ to make the world too fast for him to think about it.

About _them._

_Oh, look who's decided to show up! Smelling like pudding and bubble bath._

He felt sobs start to push at the walls of his chest as old memories bubbled up to the surface with a vengeance. It was as if the dam had broken.

Following giant cockroaches into an area teaming with giant bats.

Teaching pale skinned children how to dance the Hokey Pokey.

Flying over beautiful stone buildings with a friend who'd never let him fall.

Watching lava dribble and spill over rocks and corpses.

So many corpses…

_Don't go, okay? Don't._

"I save you as I save my life," Gregor whispered to empty room. For some reason, that stopped the sobs instead of freeing them.

_Hazard._

_Howard._

_Vikus._

He closed his eyes, held his head in his hands, and let silent tears fall.

_Ripred._

_Twitchtip._

_The Bane._

Quiet, hitched, stuttering breaths became the only sound in the room.

_Ares._

_Luxa._

_I love you._

He hated it here.

()()()

Later that night, his mom decided they'd have hamburger casserole. Nobody ever argued about hamburger casserole. The problem was that the hamburger was in the freezer in the basement, and Lizzie was convinced something was down there. And by something, the otherwise logical young lady meant a ghost.

"I'm not going down there!" She argued, standing the kitchen as her mother turned on the oven. "I'm not!"

"Lizzie, this is ridiculous," the woman sighed. "There are no ghosts in the basement."

"Then how do you explain it?"

"Maybe the conversations from upstairs are going through the floor," her father suggested. "Or maybe the television?"

"I'd recognize _that_," Lizzie protested. "It's just saying one word."

"And what word would that be, dear?" Their mother asked tiredly.

"It's saying 'Gregor'."

The teenaged boy looked up from his place on the couch, peering through the window that connected the living room to the kitchen.

"The ghosts are saying my name?" He asked with interest. Lizzie nodded furiously.

"Yeah! It's so clear! And when I ask who's there, it stops!"

"Being dead must be bad," Boots piped up. "If all they have to talk about is Gregor." Even Lizzie had to giggle a bit at that.

"Here." Gregor got up from the couch. "I'll get the burger." He walked over to the door to the basement, then stopped and turned to his family. "And if I'm not back in five minutes… run. It can probably smell fear."

"Ha ha, Gregor!" Lizzie called as closed the door behind him.

The basement wasn't that large. It had two rooms, one with the washer and dryer and another with a couch, a tv, a freezer, a table with a chair, and a large, broken antique vent that never put out any air. It stayed cool in the summer and fairly warm in the winter, so Gregor would often come down to the basement for quiet time, which came in the Calm Down and Study variety.

Now that Lizzie's story had included _him_, however, it was a little creepy.

He decided to hurry, paying no attention to the fact that it was a bit ridiculous for his heart to be pounding so loudly.

He had barely touched the handle of the freezer door when a whisper made him jump out of his skin.

"… Gregor?"

He cursed and backed up against the freezer, looking around frantically.

"Gregor?"

He went over to the room with the dryer and washer and peered inside. There was no one. He could _feel_ the blood rush in his veins, and while he would have loved for it to be one of his family members joking around with him, he could safely say that the deep, gravely voice was _not_ his father and could not have been Boots, Lizzie, or his mother.

"Gregor!"

"Look," he said shakily. "Whoever this is, it isn't funny, alright?"

"_Overlander whelp!_"

The statement was far louder than anything else that had been said, though not loud enough for Gregor to worry about anyone else hearing. It _was_ loud enough for him to realize where it was coming from.

The vent.

He should have run. Any sane person would have run. His mother would have screamed and demanded that they move to Kansas or something. But the same word that would have made her half die of fright was the same that made his heart feel outrageously light.

_Overlander._

He rushed over to the vent, peered inside, and scrambled back with a sharp squeak of shock.

Peering out, blue eyes glittering, was a very large wolf.


	2. Chapter 2

"Greetings, Overlander," the wolf said, its lips peeling back in what might have been a smile.

Gregor never realized just how much he missed those two words and the place that they would be uttered.

"Greetings," the teen replied, a faint, breathless smile tugging at his lips. "Who… How…"

"I don't suppose there's a way to open this?" The wolf nudged at the grate with its nose. "It isn't very comfortable in here." Gregor hurried forward and started to pry the grate off, then gasped.

"Wait… wait right here, okay?" He said. "I'll be right back." The wolf didn't seem overly pleased with the prospect of waiting more, but it nodded anyway. Gregor grabbed the hamburger (ignoring the rather hungry sounding growl that came from the vent) and hurried upstairs.

"What took you so long?" His mother asked as he put the hamburger on the table.

"Oh, nothing. Couldn't find the hamburger for a second." He jerked his thumb towards the basement. "I think I'm gonna take a little nap, okay? Call me when dinner's ready?"

"Sure, sweetie." She turned back to what she'd been doing, and Gregor went back down the stairs, trying to find that careful balance between Suspiciously Fast and Fast Enough For the Enormous Wolf in the Basement.

After fishing a screwdriver out of a toolbox, Gregor set about opening the grate.

"Be quiet, okay?" He whispered. "My mom would freak if she knew…"

"I've heard of your mother's wrath," the wolf replied, watching the teen as he worked. "I will be swift and quiet."

The wolf had some trouble squeezing out of the grate, and as it stretched, Gregor reached into the opening. Inside was far larger than the opening let on, and there was a definite slant to it. A slight breeze pulled him in a bit, but it wasn't difficult to break from its hold. All in all, it reminded Gregor vividly of the laundry chute, only much bigger.

His curiosity about the vent sated, Gregor turned to the wolf. It was much larger than the average Overland wolf. Its back was about as tall as Gregor's chest, and it was probably five feet long. Unlike most wolves Gregor had seen in books, however, its fur was a rich auburn and its eyes were a dark green. Those eyes turned to him, full of curiosity.

"Greetings Overlander," it repeated. "I am Zev, whelp of Gideon. I have been sent to tell you that the Underland has need of your help." He paused, then said, rather ironically, "Again."

Gregor laughed a little. He should be furious, or terrified, or something other than overjoyed. But here he was.

His mother would have been furious.

"I thought the warrior died," he said, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms, trying to remain composed.

"And so the warrior has," Zev said. "But our prophecies call for he who defeated the Bane. There can be no other." He paused, then said, "Vikus didn't want to send for you. He thought you had been through enough." He peered at Gregor. "Though it seems that you're quite not as heartbroken over this news as he thought you would be."

"No one ever mentioned giant wolves in Regalia," Gregor said, changing the subject. Zev some harsh, almost hiccupy growls in his throat. It took a moment for Gregor to realize he was laughing.

"They wouldn't," the wolf said. "It is often easier for the humans to forget we exist. We help their banished, and our… political system is difficult for most humans to grasp." He sighed. "Once, we bonded with one another, as humans bond with fliers now. Though these days, only those banished and their children can."

Gregor absorbed that, his fingers digging into his arms to keep himself from shaking, though it was a bit interesting to note that he shook from excitement, not fear.

"So… There are prophecies?" he asked. Zev nodded.

"Yes. We have our own prophet, and while often the Regalian Prophet and our prophet, Zion, do not coincide, with this they do. It is very rare, and is often the cause of much confusion, at least on the side of the humans." Gregor frowned questioningly. "As I said, our political system is difficult for them to grasp. Though…" He winked. "You won't need to know about that until you go there." Gregor blinked, startled, then laughed.

"That's dirty," he said, shaking his head. Then, after some hesitation, "Do you know how my friends are doing?" It seemed like a long shot, but they were famous enough for it to be a possibility. "Luxa? Ripred? Hazard?"

"Ripred, due to his unusual bondship with Luxa, continues to act as an ambassador to the humans on the gnawers behalf," Zev supplied. "Hazard, I hear, continues his studies as a linguist and may prove to be an excellent ambassador himself one day." He seemed to hesitate a moment, then said, "Negotiations for Luxa's marriage have begun." Gregor stared at him, briefly uncomprehending. "Such negotiations often begin years before their marriageable age, but she will marry when she becomes queen." Gregor nodded, ignoring the dull ache in the pit of his stomach.

The wolf was quiet for a moment, then said quietly, "I hear you and the queen were close before you left." Gregor nodded shortly, then changed the subject.

"Why do need me to come down?" He asked. Zev seemed to understand, but shook his head anyway.

"Again. You will have to come down to understand. I can't explain it properly here." Gregor nodded.

"Fine. When do we leave?" he asked. The wolf looked surprised.

"I was under the impression this would be much more difficult," he said in response to Gregor's questioning look. "That I would have to knock you out and whisk you off. Though this shouldn't be surprising. As I said…" He rolled his eyes. "We expected you to be utterly heartbroken at this necessary return." Gregor grinned.

"I can't leave right now, but if you can be here at… let's say midnight to be safe, I can be ready and we can get out without anyone knowing." The wolf cocked his head.

"You don't want to tell you parents where you'll be?" He asked. Gregor shuffled his feet awkwardly.

"I'll tell them… via a note they won't read until I'm miles away…" He wondered if this was wrong, but the wolf nodded.

"I heard your mother was very happy to be away from the Underland. It makes sense that she wouldn't want you to leave now." He paused. "I wish our departure didn't require guile, but I can see why it must." Gregor nodded, absurdly glad that the wolf didn't think too badly of him.

"Okay. Be here at midnight tonight, and I will be too." Gregor pushed away from the wall, then stopped. "Do we need Lizzie or Boots?" The wolf cocked his head again.

"I'm sorry?"

"Lizzie? Boots?" Gregor repeated. Seeing the wolf's continued confusion, and growing embarrassment, Gregor amended, "The Crawler Princess and the Code Breaker?"

"Oh!" Zev looked relieved. "No, the prophecies do not mention them." Gregor nodded, feeling a strange mixture of relief and disappointment, and watched the wolf squeeze back into the grate and dart out of sight.

()()()

Later that night, Gregor carefully closed the door behind him. He'd hid his backpack of gear in the basement an hour or so before and had spent the rest of his time trying to figure out a good way to word his letter. He'd pulled up a blank; writing had never been his strong suit and who's good at writing a letter like this, even under the best circumstances?

He was still staring at the blank page as he stepped into the basement, and for a moment he didn't even realize the light was on. He hadn't left it on. He froze, his heart stuttering painfully in his chest.

"Flashlights," a high voice said quietly. "Batteries, duct tape… You know what this looks like, Gregor?"

"Lizzie," Gregor breathed, his heart steadying to a more respectable rhythm. His sister was sitting on the couch, fully dressed, with a Tupperware case next to her. Boots was next to her, also dressed, but asleep. Lizzie had his pack open in her lap, a pack of batteries in her head, her eyes on her brother.

"This looks like Underland gear," his sister continued. "That vent. It leads to the Underland, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," Gregor said, still glad it wasn't his mother. "But I already asked if you were needed and-"

"I still want to go!" Lizzie said, standing. The backpack fell out of her lap and crashed onto the floor. "I want to see everyone again! I want to see Hazard and Ripred and Daedalus and-"

"Lizzie, the only reason you went down there before was because you had to," Gregor protested. "You don't have to this time! The Underland is dangerous-"

"I was down there during a full-scale war and a city invasion," his sister pointed out. "I think it'd be fairly hard to top that. And Boots was part of a ton of dangerous adventu-"

"Because you both had to be!" Gregor snapped. "Not because I wanted you to be, or even because _you_ wanted to be!"

"Well, now I want to be." Lizzie said firmly.

"Perhaps it needs to be said," a deep growl drifted into the room from the vent. "That your parents will not be happy at Gregor's disappearance. No doubt if they woke up to all their children gone without explanation, they would be distraught." Lizzie slumped a little, then turned to the vent.

"You're the voice I kept hearing," she said quietly.

"Yes. I'm sorry for frightening you. I've heard for your intelligence and I would like to take you with us, but there is no reason to inflict needless harm on your parents." Lizzie's lower lip wobbled, but she nodded.

"Y-you're right," she said quietly. She picked up the Tupperware, careful not to wake Boots. "Is he going to see Ripred?" She asked Zev.

"No doubt."

"Here." Lizzie gave Gregor the container. "It's for Ripred. Some leftovers." Gregor took it, fighting to keep a straight face.

"Right. I'll be sure to give it to him." Lizzie sniffled, nodded, then walked back over to the couch.

"Come on, Boots," she whispered. "You need to get to bed." The little girl groaned, but got up sleepily.

"We goin' now?" She asked. Lizzie shook her head.

"Nah, we gotta stay for Mama," she said gently. Boot groaned again, but nodded.

"Tell Temp I say hi, okay Gregor?" The five year old said groggily as she went over to him. She gave him a hug. "Say hi to Luxa and Howard and Hazard."

Gregor patted her on the shoulder. "Of course."

"We'll tell Mom and Dad where you went, okay?" Lizzie said bravely. Gregor pulled her into their hug, and they stayed like that for a while. Zev didn't say anything.

As she and Lizzie went upstairs, Boots called down, "Say hi to Ares for me!" Gregor's heart seemed to flinch in his chest, but he nodded.

Zev said nothing until the door closed.

"Ares…" he said quietly. "He was your bond?"

"Yeah," Gregor said shortly as he picked up his backpack and got out the screwdriver.

"He is…" Zev hesitated to say the word.

"Yeah. The Bane." Gregor pulled off the grate. "Back up so I can get in." Zev stepped backwards, and Gregor pushed his backpack into the grate and quickly followed.

The path was large enough for the wolf to stand at full height with some space above, but it was still a bit claustrophobic. Gregor was amazed that they hadn't known about it before now, but they'd never really looked too closely at the old broken vent.

"How far away is this opening from Regalia?" Gregor asked quietly as they began to walk down into the vent.

"Many days," Zev replied. "Longer, if you have no flier or stalker. The lands of the Stalker packs are in the Uncharted Lands."

"I thought the banished were sent to the Dead Lands?" Gregor whispered. Zev rolled his shoulders in a shrug.

"Generally they are," he replied. "But they are often able to find their way to the Uncharted Lands. When they are able to, one pack or another will adopt them, provided they are able to prove their worth. A pack will not suffer dead weight." He seemed a bit bitter when he said that, and Gregor wondered what it meant.

The wind began to pick up and pull them in. Zev stopped.

"Get on my back, Overlander," he said. "It will be quicker that way." Gregor hesitated, but with some difficulty he managed to scramble onto the wolf's back. It was a strange mesh of riding a horse and a bat. He felt the muscles bunch up, and suddenly Gregor was flying again, the currents rushing and howling in his ear, and it felt _right._

After maybe half an hour, the vent began to widen and get taller. The incline sharpened a bit, then evened out. Gregor didn't even notice when the brick became solid rock, but suddenly they were running through the vast, dark caverns of the Underland.


	3. Chapter 3

Immediately Gregor appreciated that he was in a different part of the Underland. Unlike the vast, dark spaces that made up Regalia and the places he'd visited before, this part of the subterranean world seemed more like a system of tunnels. Crystals grew out of the rough walls and glowed softly, bathing everything in a cool, dim light. Sometimes Gregor got the impression that this was carved out by something other than time; some of the corners seemed too sharp, or the corridors too even. After awhile, they came across a river that came out of a side corridor and turned sharply to follow the path they were following. On the riverbed, Gregor saw the vague shapes of carved stones, and the whole thing reminded him vividly of the aqueducts they'd been studying in history class.

"What is this place?" Gregor asked. Zev had slowed to a trot, allowing Gregor to see more of the details. Some of the crystals had carvings around them…

"Once, a very long time ago, there were people here," Zev said quietly. "Before the Regalians even. They are gone now, but these caverns in the Uncharted Lands stand as a testament to their existence. Still, there are more than just the Killers." Gregor frowned at the old name for the humans.

"What do you mean?"

"There are the Regalians, or the Killers in an old tongue," Zev replied easily. "And then there are the Banished, who deserve their own mention. The Regalians don't like to acknowledge them, but they're powerful in their own uncivilized fashion. Our packs often consider the Regalians foolish for ignoring the Banished. For example, many of them are ragers who were banished for having inadequate control over themselves. How much shorter would the War of Time have been if the Regalians had had a small army of rager allies at their backs?"

Gregor had to agree. He also had to admit to himself that he wouldn't have minded meeting more people like him; someone other than Ripred.

The two of them traveled in silence for less than an hour before encountering more wolves.

They had been running through a rather long corridor when they encountered three wolves guarding the exit. All of them were grey with tawny patterns, and their yellow eyes almost seemed to glow in the dim light. As they got closer, Gregor was struck by how large they seemed, and by how small Zev appeared by comparison. Where they abnormally large, or was he just very small?

"Well, well, well," the one in the middle growled, his lips peeling back in an expression that was most certainly _not_ a smile. "If it isn't Gideon's whelp, Zev Scrawnypup."

"Zev Uselesswhelp," another chimed in, seeming pleased with its creativity. Gregor scowled.

"And he has a snack for us," the third rumbled in an almost sensual way. "Let's see it, Zev Smalltooth."

Gregor sat a little straighter, glaring at the wolves with every bit of courage he could scrounge up. Zev, on the other hand, looked terrified. He was scrunched down, his tail between his legs and his ears flat against his head. Gregor wished he knew the wolf well enough to comfortably reassure him, but even if he did, he doubted it would go over well with this crowd. Still, he buried his hand in the wolf's back fur and rubbed a small, soothing circle against the skin.

"A little Killer," the third went on. Gregor had the impression that the wolf was female; the difference between its voice and voices of all the others was similar to the difference between Ripred's voice and Twitchtip's. She chuckled. "A brave little Killer."

"That's not just any Killer, Kochava," the first snarled. "An Overlander Killer. Tell us, Sunbathed Killer, what are you doing on the back of Zev Smalltooth?"

Zev make a rather weak little growl. The second wolf leapt forward, hackles raised and teeth bared. Zev danced back, nearly throwing Gregor off in his haste to get away.

"Well?" The first snarled. Gregor said nothing, unsure of how to respond. The wolf's teeth were suddenly bared in a vicious snarl, and Gregor felt the rager buzz begin to grow, heedless of the fact that he had no weapon. "Listen, little Killer. You are in _my_ pack's territory. Tell me who you are, or I'll-"

"Az!" They all looked up and saw four more wolves approach. Their appearance solidified the idea in Gregor's head that Zev was very small among his kind, or just very young. All of them were very large, but the one that had apparently called out was the largest of all. His fur and eye color were the same as Zev's, and his teeth were bared.

"Gideon!" Az's tongue lolled out of his mouth with apparent amusement. "We found your whelp. Running through _our_ territory no less!" He turned and snapped his jaws at Zev. "I say you let us eat him. Think about it. Less trouble for you in the future. I'd say I'd be doing you a fa-"

Gideon leapt forward and snapped at Az's legs. Az's buddies snarled and crouched, Gideon's comrades mirrored them, and it looked like things were going to get very ugly.

"I'm taking my pup," Gideon snarled. "And I'm leaving with him. And the boy." For a moment, it looked like Az was going to attack. Then he pulled back and tossed his head in a negligent gesture.

"Be out of my territory within the hour, Gideon." And with that, they were gone.

Gideon turned to Zev, who straightened slightly but still seemed tense.

"What in the name of Zion do you think you're doing?" The enormous wolf snapped. "You could have been killed. What are you even doing out he-" Abruptly, he turned to a large grey and white wolf that was part of his entourage. "What is he doing out here?"

"Getting the Bane's Bane, it seems," the wolf replied, going up to Gregor and sniffing. "Smells like a rager, Gideon." Gideon relaxed a little, but he certainly didn't seem happy.

"You little fool," he sighed tiredly. "You did well, but you nearly got him and you killed." Zev slumped a little, and Gregor felt bad for him. "So, Bane's Bane," Gideon said, catching Gregor's attention. "Tell me. What is your name?"

"Gregor, sir," he replied, feeling the intense green gaze rather keenly. The wolves nodded.

"Gregor. We are the Stalkers, and I am Gideon Ironjaw. You are welcome in my pack and in the packs of my allies. Come. We will go to the dens. There you will eat, speak, and understand." And with that and a jerk of the head, the group began the trek.

()()()

They continued through the fairly well lit tunnels, followed the unnatural river, and eventually made their way to a large cavern. The river tumbled down and made its straight, purposeful way through the cavern, and through what looked like a strange little fort of some kind.

The cavern itself was well lit with both crystals and torches, and within was a collection of squat, functional stone houses and buildings surrounded by a fairly large wall made of clearly cut stone. Parts of the wall had probably once been gates, but were now simply gaps. The homes and buildings seemed to be built out from the biggest stone building, which had a large fire in front of it. From their vantage point at the top of the waterfall, Gregor could see bats, wolves, humans and even a couple of rats within the walls. The group jumped down from ledge and ledge and got to the cavern floor in a startlingly short amount of time.

As they approached, a human-bat team flew over and landed next to Zev. The bat's looks hit Gregor in the heart. Like Ares, its fur was black and glossy. Its rider was a young woman about his age; an Underlander with white blonde hair tied back in a short, thick braid that smacked at the space between her shoulder blades. Her eyes were a lovely violet blue, and she was dressed in a hodgepodge of leather armor and woven clothing, but despite her somewhat unprofessional appearance, the ax and shield she wore at the ready were clearly very functional.

"Hey there, Zev!" She called. "I see the mission went well!"

"The mission you weren't even supposed to go on because you're very small and have no muscle tone to speak of," the bat continued. Gregor was rather startled at the flippant, decidedly un-flier-like manner of speech, but everyone else seemed used to it.

"Hahaha… ha… ha…" Zev muttered. "Very funny, Autolycus."

"Now Auto, it's not polite to make fun of people," the rider said. She grinned at Gregor and nodded. "I'm Edlyn, this is Autolycus."

"I'm Gregor," he replied, returning the smile. Edlyn whistled.

"Gregor the Overlander," she said expansively. "Gregor the Bane's Bane. Very impressive. Try not to let it get to your head, Gregor." She winked, and she and Autolycus nodded respectfully to Gideon and headed off the fire where most of the fort's residents were beginning to congregate.

"Edlyn and Autolycus, huh?" Gregor asked. Zev glanced back at him.

"Yes. They're both ragers, though only Autolycus is Banished. He was originally from Regalia, if I recall correctly." He rolled his shoulders. "Alright, ride's over, Overlander." Gregor jumped off gingerly, stumbling a little as a group of children and puppies nearly ran him over.

"Come, Overlander," Gideon rumbled. "I will show you to our Lorekeepers, and they will tell you about the prophecy." Gideon led Gregor away from Zev – Gregor waved to the wolf, hoping he'd be able to talk with him again – and towards the large stone structure roughly in the center of the camp.

Gideon nodded towards the blanket covered doorway. "There is no reason for me to go inside. I'm the Alpha of this pack, but the lore is the Lorekeepers' territory. Learn, and then we will eat." Gregor nodded, pulled back the blanket, and went inside.

Inside was darker than the cavern itself, and the air was cool and full of the light scent of incense. The only light sources were the crystals that had been somehow transferred onto the walls of the building so that they grew there. Carved into the walls themselves were dozens of little shelves and cubbies. On the shelves were various tools, what looked like writing utensils, and herbs and mushrooms he'd never seen before. In the cubbies were scrolls. Each cubby had its own scroll, and each scroll seemed, to Gregor's amateur eye, to be actual paper. In the back corner was a large pile of blankets and pillows that made a sort of nest.

In the center of the room was another firepit, but it was much smaller, and the smoke that came from it smelled like incense. Four figures sat around it: an older Underlander woman in a dark red hooded robe, a clearly old wolf with black fur that was liberally peppered with gray, a younger boy about Lizzie's age that looked like a Halflander in grey clothes, and a young tawny wolf that was only slightly bigger than Zev. They all looked up as he entered, and the older woman smiled and gestured to an empty spot next to the fire.

"Hail, Overlander, Bane's Bane. Sit." Her voice was dark and smoky, like the room itself. Gregor swallowed and sat down by her awkwardly. He glanced at the boy and decided that he was definitely a Halflander, though rather than lime-green eyes, his were a startling electric blue.

"I am Loella, the human Lorekeeper. This is Chava, my bond, the Stalker Lorekeeper." The black and grey wolf bowed her head slightly. "And there beside you is my apprentice, Ostric, and his bond, Levi." Both the boy and the wolf nodded warmly to Gregor. "Now my dear Ostric, our friend needs to see the prophecy that speaks of him. Please find it and bring it to him." The boy scrambled up and started going through the scrolls.

"I would get it for you myself, my dear," Loella said. "But my eyesight is not what it used to be." Gregor circumspectly looked closer at the woman's face and saw that her eyes were completely clouded over and strangely milky. He swallowed a gasp and nodded. "But, of course, you and I both know there are other ways to see." A smile curled her thin lips as she tapped her fingernails to the stone, sending little clicks through the air. Gregor grinned and nodded.

"Here it is, Lady Loella," Ostric said, holding a scroll bound in blood red ribbon to her. She laughed a little.

"Give it to Gregor, dear. What am I to do with it?" Ostric blushed, his face taking on the hue of a watermelon (much to the amusement of the wolves) and gave the scroll to Gregor. "Read it aloud, sweet thing."

Gregor carefully untied the ribbon from around the scroll and unrolled the paper. Clearing his throat and licking his lips, he read.

"_Seven shall go the whispering lands_

_And royal blood denied shall decide where he stands_

_The Bane of the Bane shall lead the quest_

_To the sleepless lands, the traitor's nest_

_The ghost of a friend shall lead the way_

_Or the Bane shall ne'er see the light of day" _

Gregor hesitated, then asked, "What does that mean?"

"That's the beauty of prophecies, Gregor," Chava said dryly. "You never know until they happen."

"Boy, ain't that the truth," Gregor muttered to himself. "You should have heard the Prophecy of Blood fiasco." With that brief mention, he realized something. "Wait. You guys are warmbloods, mammals. Why weren't you part of the Prophecy of Blood quest? Or any of the quests, for that matter?"

"The Regalians do not like us," Loella said. Her tone reminded Gregor of Nerissa, dreamy and detached. "We assist their banished, as a whole, and our pack system confuses them with its near-constant change. Even if we were on good enough terms to join their plight, they wouldn't know whom to turn to. Our pack is the most… _dogged_ in trying to find peace with the Regalians, though others would much rather fight."

"What confuses them about the packs?" Gregor asked. Ostric spoke up.

"Each pack is entirely separate. There are alliances, friendships, connections, but in the end, each is sovereign. Many Regalian monarchs find it difficult to maintain peaceful relations with Stalkers since they have no solid single entity to discuss peace with. Rather than weave through such complicated systems, they shun us altogether." Ostric grinned. "It's just as well. Besides, in the case of the Prophecy of Blood, we were too isolated from the plague to be attacked by it." Gregor nodded slowly, but before he could say anything else, Loella made a small exclamation.

"Oh," she said quietly. "The time has come for our conversation to end, I'm afraid."

Before Gregor could ask why, a very strong looking Underlander rushed in.

"Lorekeepers! Overlander! Hurry! You must ready yourselves!" Gregor scrambled to his feet as the others rose at their leisure.

"What is happening, Olney?" Loella asked dreamily.

"Regalians are coming in great numbers! They come to fight!"


	4. Chapter 4

**(grin) This chapter is dedicated to coela32, who not only reviewed this story and poked me into updating, which was fun, but also got me my 1000 email! WHOOT! (does a little dance)**

**Your review made me happy, Coela, so, as promised, here's the new chap of Stalkers. I'll try my very best to update from now on. **

Gregor and Moro rushed out of the tent, and found chaos. Wolves literally barked orders in a guttural language that Gregor assumed was wolfish. People and younger, smaller wolves rushed about, yelling and snarling. Moro snarled a bit, and the chaos seemed to die a little, replaced with order and precision.

"Go get a weapon. They're over there," Moro said, jerking her head towards a rack of weapons.

"I'm not going to fight the humans." Gregor said simply. "What if my friends are out there? I can't fight them."

"I wasn't going to require that of you," Moro said testily. "Just… go out there and see if you can find someone that can make them stop that will listen to you."

"Why are they fighting you? Attacking you?" Gregor asked suspiciously. Moro sighed irritably, probably thinking that these were time-wasting questions.

"Think. If one of Sandwich's prophecies said that there would be treacherous Stalker clans, what do you think the humans would do?"

"Attack the Stalkers." Gregor said. Moro nodded.

"Our society is much different than theirs. That is a difficult thing for them to comprehend." Moro said, fidgeting, as if wanting very much to leave.

"Why? How is it different?" Gregor asked, wanting the full story before he went out there. Moro sighed again, even more irritated.

"Our society consists of clans. Packs. Each has it's own way of dealing with things; it's own view on the humans. The humans assume that our society is like the Gnawers, or their own. One central point, one person that commands all but those who rebel. As my pack is the largest and most politically vocal, the humans assume my pack is the 'ruling pack'." Moro sighed in frustration, more at the idea than him. "No matter how much I try to explain, only Vikus Silvertongue seems to understand."

"Vikus _Silvertongue_?" Gregor asked, confused.

"Vikus convinced the Council to leaving us in peace once before. For that, I named him Silvertongue." She chuckled. "He seemed quite pleased with it."

"Okay…" Gregor muttered.

"Will you go get your weapons now?" Moro asked impatiently. Gregor nodded, and with that, Moro ran off towards Droga and his bunch, who seemed ready to fight.

Gregor went over to the rack and immediately saw a problem. While there were many of the thin-bladed swords that fighters like Luxa preferred, there were few of the thick-bladed, heavier ones that more straightforward fighters like Gregor needed. Also, the daggers weren't like the ones he was used to. The blades were bent oddly, like a boomerang. They were slightly larger and heavier. He picked one up uneasily, swinging it a few times. Then he searched for a blade.

"It's called a Kukri," a deep voice growled, and Gregor turned to see Droga walk up from behind him. "A very long time ago, an Overlander fell here. He carried one of those strange blades, and our metal crafters continue to mimic the style." Gregor looked at the blade, then nodded.

"Is it really a dagger?" He asked. The wolf showed his teeth in mimic of a smile, though no smile Gregor had ever seen had ever looked so…. Carnivorous. Gregor finally selected a sword he preferred and sheathed it.

"I believe so. Pock wishes to ride with you." Gregor started at the abrupt change of subjects, but regained his footing and nodded.

"Alright."

--

The battle was a lopsided one. The wolves and their riders seemed to be going out of their way not to hurt anyone mortally, or kill anyone. The humans and their fliers, however, took every opportunity they could get, making Gregor wonder how these kinds of battles ended in the past.

Looking for anyone he knew had been a complete failure thus far. He hadn't seen Perdita, Mareth, or anyone else he knew. He'd found himself looking for Solovet for a few minutes, then remembered that she'd died in the War of Time.

Every once in awhile, he'd search the skies, or what passed for skies, in search of some distinctive fur color. All his friends had bats with markings that set them aside. Black and gold speckles, zebra-like black and white strips, that kind of thing. So far, however, he'd seen nothing.

Gregor sighed, banging his head against Pock's furry neck. When he was frustrated in school, he'd bang his head against his desk. Usually, this resulted in some type of breakage or bleeding, from the desk or his head. Gregor, not really paying attention, rammed into Pock's neck with that strength, and Pock growled.

"Sorry." Gregor muttered dully. "I can't find anyone who can stop this." Pock continued to dodge past skirmishes and duck away from bats trying to grab him.

"Keep looking, Gregor." He said urgently. Gregor sighed and looked up half-heartedly, not expecting to see anyone.

But lo and behold. A golden bat flew just above him. His heart pounded; he stood on Pock's back (The wolf whined in surprise and stopped), and, taking a deep breath, yelled, "HEY! LUXA! DOWN HERE!"

The bellow echoed through the chaos, and for a moment Gregor feared it would be lost in it, but a slight figure leapt from the golden bat's back and landed, gracefully cat-like, in front of the pair.

Her hair had gotten longer, and was tied back in a tail. She wore white mother-of-pearl armor, and held a thin-bladed sword that dripped with blood. Her amethyst eyes didn't leave his face for a long moment, then she whispered, "Gregor. Is… that… you?"

Gregor beamed. "Yeah. It's me, Luxa."

Her eyes flashed, and she charged at Pock, her sword moving in a blur. The wolf jumped back, snarling in surprise and rage, but didn't strike back. Gregor leapt in front of Pock and intercepted Luxa's blade with his own. There was a moment of complete silence, as all fighting stopped, all soldiers, bats, and wolves stared at the pair, who were locked in almost unreal, dancer-like stances.

"What are you doing, Gregor?" Luxa hissed. "He is the enemy. All these things are the humans enemies!"

"Things!" Pock snarled indignantly, jaws snapping.

"Be cool!" Gregor snapped, his brown eyes locked with Luxa's purple ones. "They're not the enemy! They have a prophecy too, and-"

"I do not believe their prophecies," the child-queen snarled. "Sandwich foretold that the Stalkers would become treacherous; that they would-"

"Luxa!" Gregor and Luxa both looked up as a large, gray bat flew down and landed next to them. A very, very old man slid down, hobbling slightly. Clutching a cane, he limped over to them. "Do not attack them, Luxa!" Vikus said, his voice slightly marred. Gregor recalled with clarity the day Vikus suffered his stroke. He seemed to have recovered quite a bit though.

"Why not!?" Luxa snapped, still locked with Gregor. "The prophecy says-"

"The prophecy says that there will be a treacherous Stalker clan. How many times must I tell you! Stalkers are in many different clans. Clans are like countries to them!" He turned to the stunned people around them and said, "Stand down! Head home! Only Luxa and I are needed here." The soldiers blinked in shock, then looked around, uncertain as to what to do. Then, finally, they heaved themselves onto their bats and flew home. Soon, only the wolves and their riders were still there, nursing their wounds.

Gregor broke the lock, sheathing his blade. Luxa kept hers unsheathed.

"Vikus! I do not trust these… things." Luxa said, glaring at Pock with obvious distaste. "I know that they wish the humans harm."

"I'm right here," Pock muttered sourly. "And I am not deaf." Gregor let out a bark of laughter. Luxa glared.

"And what are you doing here, Overlander?" She asked archly. Gregor groaned. "What?" She snapped.

"Oh… Whenever you start calling me 'Overlander', it means I have to prove myself again. Frankly, Luxa, it's getting a bit old; having to explain myself whenever you get angry." Gregor sighed. Pock laughed this time, and Luxa went red.

"Just. Answer. The. Question. _Overlander_." Luxa said slowly.

"Alright. I moved to Virginia. The basement of the house I live in has a grate. This grate apparently is like the laundry shoot in the apartment building. It's a tunnel to the Underland. Pock came a got me earlier today; Moro showed me the prophecy; then you guys showed up." He smiled brightly. "It's good to see you again."

Luxa fidgeted, but Vikus clasped Gregor shoulder with his good hand and smiled. "It is good to see you again as well, Gregor. How fares your family?"

"Dad's much better. Mom has a steady job. Lizzie and Boots are both great." Gregor said with a smile.

"And you?" Vikus asked, his eyes probing. Gregor withdrew into himself slightly, then grinned.

"Fine. Anyway, what's going on?" He said, changing the subject. Vikus frowned, but, thankfully, let it pass.

"Luxa convinced the council to send this regiment to fight the Stalkers. I came to send them home and to speak with Moro Ironjaw about this prophecy The One has created. It is rare that Sandwich's prophecies and The One's prophecies fit together so cleanly." Vikus smiled at Pock, how barred his throat respectfully. "Lead the way, Pock, Whelp of Droga."

**Vikus lives. Vikus takes control of situations that Luxa screws up.**

**Gregor's whine about Luxa calling him Overlander whenever she gets rudely pissed off is one of my biggest gripes about her. At some point, I'm going to write her a letter and post it on here. :D  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**WOW! I update, I log on to my email, and I have four reviews! Amazing! Like magick! XD**

**Molly(): Hmm. Maybe... (wink)**

**Variok: Now THIS was a review! I had the feeling I'd made some grammar mistakes. I'll look back over it. Of course, in my head they'd be different. Seeing as how it's been a year, their financial situation is tons better, and, all things considered, they're happy. Also, on the "If a Stalker was Sandwich's bond, they'd be mentioned" thing... The books never mentioned a bond one way or the other, and the humans generally distrust the Stalkers, and aren't above to simply "forgetting" to mention that little tidbit. **

**Coela32: :) Thanks! I will. **

**I look foreward to future reviews, and future chapters that I'll write. I've got everything pretty much thought out.  
**

Gregor, Vikus, Luxa, Howard, Nike, Ripred, Pock and Moro all sat around a private fire pit on small rugs laid out on the stone. There were two rugs unoccupied, and Moro insisted on holding the conference until the missing two came. Everyone was getting a bit fidgety, and even more awkward.

"Hazard wanted to come," Howard muttered. "He wanted to see if a Stalker would teach him their language. Appearently it is an interesting thing to learn."

Pock shrugged. "He doesn't need to learn it from a Stalker. Any of the humans around here know the language; they'd be happy to teach him."

"We would not allow Hazard to roam with traitors." Luxa snapped venomously. Pock's eyes narrowed dangerously, but Vikus cut in before he could say anything.

"Who are we waiting for, Ironjaw? Two other Stalkers?"

"Yes," the great wolf said with a sigh. "My brother, Mara Bloodthief, and the Judge Wolf, Bock Greyeye. They are two other Pack Alphas, and must be present and consent to any huge phenomenon such as this."

"'Judge Wolf'? Like a human judge?" Luxa asked. Pock looked mockingly shocked that she'd asked the question, but Moro snapped at him, and answered.

"Something like that. He is the oldest living Stalker, and therefore has great wisdom. When a crime is committed, or a group of Stalkers, or even a pack of Stalkers, has a disagreement, they must go to the Judge Wolf before doing anything." Moro bowed her head. "I must insist, Whelp-Queen, that you treat him with respect. He is, at the very least, equal of status to you." Luxa thought about that, then shrugged.

"I suppose." She muttered, and Moro laughed.

"You are pig-headed. I hope you grow out of that; it's not a good thing for a ruler to have under the current circumstances." She said. Luxa's eyes narrowed, but Howard nudged her.

"Gregor, it is wonderful to see you. How have you been?" Howard said cheerfully to Gregor. He was forced to answer more in-depth questions with Howard.

"What kind of job has your mother gotten?"

"She's a secretary at the school."

"Has your father gotten a job?"

"Yeah. He's my science teacher."

"And Boots? Lizzie?"

"Good. All good."

Uncomfortable silence followed. Finally, Gregor had to ask.

"Why do you hate the wolves so much, Luxa?" He asked cautiously. Usually such things were touchy subjects.

"Long ago, they did us a great wrong," the queen said coolly. "None have forgotten, and all humans hold the Stalkers in contempt."

"Not all humans," Vikus and Howard muttered in unison.

"What did they do?" Gregor asked quickly, before Luxa could snap at them.

There was a few seconds of silence. Luxa went red, Howard coughed and Vikus sighed.

"You can't remember!" Ripred snapped, the first thing he'd said since he arrived, after complaining about the absence of shrimp in cream sauce. "You hate these guys because you kinda sorta remember that they did something!" He shook his head. "That's… pretty sad, Pup-Queen."

"Do not call me that!" Luxa snapped. "Besides, that does not matter."

"Yes it does." Gregor, Pock and Ripred all said, in sync.

"It is the principle of the matter!" Luxa insisted. "They never apologized, so why should we forgive-"

"Shut your jaws, Whelp!" A deep, terrible voice snarled. "Or I'll snap it off."

They all turned and went face to face with two more Stalkers. Pock and Moro immediately bared their throats.

One was the great black wolf that Pock and Gregor had encountered before. Mara. He glared at them both, then sat sharply down on the mat next to Pock, who shifted uncomfortably. But if Mara was large, the other wolf was gargantuan.

His fur was pure, smooth, silky gray, and huge in sheets off his body. He dwarfed Mara, dwarfed Pock, dwarfed Moro. His eyes were a silver gray, and bright. They latched on Gregor with interest, then turned back to Moro. He bared his neck fractionally.

"_Gadara-dar._" He said formally. His voice was incredibly deep, and dark-chocolaty. It was as impressive as him.

"_Gadara-sar._" Moro murmured, throat still bared. He sat next to Vikus, and the meeting began.

--

Things rapidly deteriorated. While Luxa did show Bock due respect, she was insolent to Moro, waspish to Mara, and downright rude to Pock. Over and over, she questioned the truthfulness of their "prophet". (Quote, unquote, complete with quotation marks), brought up the so-called, "betrayal" of the Stalkers to the humans, which neither side seemed to remember the details of, or even what really happened, and constantly called Pock, "Dog."

By the end, Pock had came very close to storming out, Mara had had to stomp off and presumably destroy rocks (that's what it sounded like), Moro shot Vikus desperate glances, and all the rest of the humans and Nike felt like melting into puddles and dripping to the center of the earth in shame. Ripred hadn't been able to get a word in, between the volley of threats and accusations from Luxa to Mara and Pock. The other two wolves never said a word. Bock, however, seemed to chuckle on occasion.

"Little queen," he said, after Luxa had said a particularly scathing remark to Pock. "Wouldn't it be prudent for you to allow this meeting to go on with your tongue held firmly? I'm certain none of us came here to allow you to insult these two fine young gentleman." Luxa blinked at the hulking wolf. "I don't think Ripred has even gotten a word in! Have you, Ripred?"

"No, sir." Ripred said, jokingly grief-stricken. "And seeing as how both prophecies call for me, I don't think the lovely queen here would be pleased with my leaving." Luxa gritted her teeth, but said nothing.

In the end, however, it was unavoidable. Both prophecies coincided, at least, according to Vikus, who left in such a hurry that he'd forgotten a copy of it. And since neither side had ignored a prophecy, ever, no matter how displeasing the company would be, it was agreed on all sides that they would join together to find this "treacherous Gnawer clan" and the "Stalkers who seek the death of the Chieftess".

"On the Gnawer side, we've been getting some rebel activity in the Tunnels," Ripred said.

"The Tunnels?" Gregor asked. He'd never heard of that before.

"An extensive tunnel system underneath the Dead Land," Vikus explained. "No one knows if it was man-made or not, but recently people have been putting forth the theory that the Diggers created them. The Diggers refuse to say whether this is true or not."

"The Tunnels are a labyrinth in and of themselves," Luxa said. "How will we find this rebel group?"

"By sound," Pock said. "I've been in the Tunnels. The sounds of anything echo, and you can follow the sound to what created it. Once, a pup got lost and we followed its cries to its location. Depending on where we enter, it will not be difficult." Luxa frowned.

"We have gone on journeys with less, Cousin," Howard said humorously. Luxa sighed.

"Fine."

"Do we have your blessing, Judge Wolf?" Moro asked. The great gray wolf looked at them all seriously, then amusement twinkled in his eye.

"I see no reason why not. Go on your quest."

**Alright, they WILL! **


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay! This one... went a bit fast, I think. A plot twist occurs, and I wasn't quite sure how to go about it, so...**

**Plus, I'm using a type of word that's weird to me, so that might be a contributing factor.**

**Ceola32: Oh! I want to hug you! That made me feel so special!**

**Variok: I knew there was something wrong with that! Thanks, I've always been iffy on that. Keep up the great reviews! I saw your story after reading the review, and I'll try to read it. I've got a full plate right now, but I will as soon as I can!**

**Molly(): Your wish is my command! XD  
**

Gregor, Pock, Luxa, Aurora, Howard, Nike and Pepper stood in front of the mouth of the Tunnels, foreboding pressing down on them like a sheet.

The opening was 12 feet high and 6 feet wide, and the darkness was deep and boundless. It made Gregor uncomfortable.

"Are you absolutely sure we have to go in there?" Gregor asked slowly, backing up a bit.

"Yes... But... not until Ripred comes!" Pock pointed out quickly. They all nodded furiously.

"Hello, Pups. Are we all ready?" Ripred asked. There was a chorus of groans, to which Ripred frowned. "What?"

"I do not think this is a good plan." Howard asserted. "We could very easily get lost, or... get lost."

"You already said lost." Gregor pointed out.

"I know," Howard snapped. "We could get lost, and we do not have enough food to last a month!"

"Then we won't be in there a month!" Ripred snapped. "Stop worrying! It won't take that long! We'll be out before you know it. It took us, what, a week to get out of the jungle? A week and a half to get to the Firelands? A month or so to get through the War of Time? Things tend to go really fast down here."

Gregor laughed quietly, earning a few glares. "What? It's true." Gregor muttered.

Vikus rushed up, carrying several more packs.

"The Tunnels are strange and mysterious, and the temperature is unpredictable. Here are some extra blankets, and some light clothing. It is impossible to know if the temperature will be frigid, or like the Jungle. Best be prepared for everything." Vikus said, handing Howard and Gregor the packs. The two of them heaved the packs onto their backs.

"Alright... Then I guess we're ready." Ripred said, starting forward. "Come on, none of us can be away for long. I've got a race to represent, Her Highness has a race to run, Howard's got lives to save, and Gregor's got... grades to pull up!"

"My grades are perfectly fine, Ripred!" Gregor snapped.

"Well, they won't be if you take long!" Ripred retorted. "Come on!"

And with that, they all started off, into the Tunnels.

--

The Tunnels were everything that the elders warned. Howard carried the torch, while Pock carried the packs on his back, Luxa and Gregor walked together, the fliers fluttered behind, and Ripred taking the rear.

The tunnels themselves were just big enough to, if Gregor spread his arms out, his fingers brushed the tunnel walls. The stone itself was rough, with occasional thick, deep gashes that made Gregor seriously think about the whole Diggers theory.

The walls also had holes in them, and, when passing them, they sometimes would shoot out air that was extremely hot or extremely cold.

As they walked, they passed several other side tunnels. Some were narrower or wider than the one they were going down currently, but most of the time, if they went down one, it ended in a dead end. On the whole, it reminded Gregor horribly of the Labyrinth.

"How big is this place?" Gregor asked quietly. Even whispers echoed widely in the Tunnels.

"Only a few miles wide. But the tunnels are so twisted that you could walk for hours and only be a mile away from where you began," Pock whispered back. "We must listen closely, so that we can hear if there are any voices. That's how we'll find the Gnawers." They all nodded silently.

They went on for several more hours, until the temperature seemed to drop a few degrees, and they settled in one of the wider tunnels. Howard, after a few tries, managed to light a fire, and they all huddled together around the fire.

"This isn't going anywhere," Gregor muttered.

"It will not be easy, Gregor," Howard whispered. "It may be days, even a week before we hear an echo, and then we will have to track it."

"I can't be away from my family that long!" Gregor hissed. "My mom's already devastated. You should have heard her when she found my note! Pock, remember!"

"Yes! It was scary!" Pock whimpered. He cowered slightly, his ears pricking back. "I thought... she was going to come down and... shriek at me." Gregor laughed under his breath, then choked and muttered, "Yeah, me too."

Luxa laughed for the first time since Gregor saw her.

"I cannot believe that you would be frightened of your mother!" She giggled.

"You would be too, if you'd met her when she wasn't... sick and stuff." He muttered. Luxa grinned.

"What should we do about the temperature? I mean, Vikus said it could get very hot or very cold. How should we sleep?" Nike asked.

Ripred shrugged. "I guess we'll just cover up. Not a big deal."

--

Gregor woke up freezing. He scrambled over to the packs for another blanket, and tripped over Pock. The huge wolf, he realized, was very warm, though still shivering. Then an idea hit him.

Grabbing a blanket, he went over to Pock and snuggled next to him, throwing the huge blanket over the wolf. Pock curled around him, and Gregor felt Luxa get under the blankets next to him too. He felt blood rise to him face as she wrapped her arms around him, shivering.

Soon, everyone was under the blankets, and they were all warm.

That was when the echos started.

Scratches, clicks, and whispers pulsed around them. The fire was out; they were surrounded by darkness, and strange, ghostly whispers echoed around them endlessly.

They all pressed a bit closer to one another, except for Ripred, who was up and sitting guard, but still close enough to share warmth.

"Don't worry about it," the rat muttered. "It'll be fine. I don't think they're anywhere near us." This calmed Gregor down a bit, but he still kinda wished Ares was around.

The thought of his friend made tears fill his eyes. His friend, who gave his life to helping Gregor defeat the Bane.

Just the thought of Ares set off a chain reaction. With Ares came Solovet, and with Solovet came Twitchtip. Gregor choked back tears, and felt Luxa's arms tighten around him.

He turned to the opposite side and buried his face in her shoulder.

"I miss them," he whispered. "I really miss them."

"I do too," she said, her voice catching in her throat slightly. "Ares and everyone else..."

"Yeah," he whispered. She sniffed, her shoulders trembled.

Gregor heard Ripred sigh, but the rat didn't say anything. Luxa and Gregor laid like that, in each others arms for a few more minutes, before breaking away. Gregor swallowed past the lump in his throat; Luxa sighed a shaky sigh.

After a few hours, Ripred nudged them all and they got up. They all seemed a bit embarrassed about how they curled up with each other, but no one mentioned it. They all just continued on as normal.

They trudged through tunnel after tunnel. The strange sounds they'd heard still echoed around them, and Pock led the way, taking turns at strange times.

"How do we know you are not simply leading us into a trap, Dog?" Luxa hissed. Pock ignored her. "Do you hear me, Dog?" Luxa snapped, her voice rising. They all shushed her quickly.

"Be quiet. I have to concentrate," Pock said. "I think the thing that's creating the echos is coming... from over there!" He raced through the tunnels silently, stopping every once in awhile, waiting for the others to catch up.

Finally, they stopped in a large cavern where at least six tunnels branched off. In the corner was a lump. Gregor unsheathed his sword and approached it slowly.

"Be careful!" Luxa snapped. "Careful!" Gregor kept creeping forward. "_Careful!_" Her voice echoed through the tunnels. The lump jerked. Gregor whirled around.

"Here's an idea! I'll be careful until told otherwise!" He snapped.

"Gregor?" A husky, rough voice whispered. Gregor's eyes went wide as he turned, coming face to face with a rat.

It stared in amazement at him, then beamed.

"_Gregor!_" Gregor laughed in relief and amazement.

"Twitchtip."

**The true Rezed Gnawer! (evil laughter)**

**Twitchtip: Should I be pleased or frightened? Reviewers! Decide!**

**Ripred: I think I'm OOC.**

**Boo hoo! If the reviewers complain, I'll change it.  
**


End file.
